


And They Found You On The Bathroom Floor

by iero_frank



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, M/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 07:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2101062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iero_frank/pseuds/iero_frank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you marry me,<br/>Would you bury me?<br/>---<br/>Gerard's POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	And They Found You On The Bathroom Floor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bulletsgerard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulletsgerard/gifts).



> Completely un-beta'd, just sort of a really sad oneshot tbh

I don’t look too bad.

( _You look like a fucking mess and you know it. Anyone who glanced at you could tell you’re basically fucked into next Wednesday._ )

You feel your heartbeat, uneven and racing. Everything around you is too white, too clean. You’re a mess in the middle of a sterile environment. Your reflection stares back at you, everything is blurry. You try not to fall, but the simplest steps make the world distort in the worst of ways, the walls becoming the floor.

( _You’re nothing but taint._ )

You shake your head, and make your way to the porcelain sink, trying to avoid the mirror. It shows you what you’re trying to avoid. You’re wrinkled button up, week old hair,puffy,disgusting face. It doesn’t help that you're clearly tilting,swaying back and forth uneasily.

You’re not nearly drunk enough. You can still hear your thoughts, see your surroundings. You need a drink. Another drink. There’s a party going on outside, and you can hear the sounds of people chatting quietly. It’s all background noise, echoing quietly off the tiles. He used to love get together’s like this, beg you to come and enjoy the company of others with him. The thought of him makes your heart beat faster, but your brain works quicker than your body. 

( _He isn’t yours anymore. He won’t ask you anything, ever again. And it’s your fault, and you fucking know it._ )

You shakily turn on the faucet, your brain being washed dead for a moment by the sound of running water. Your knuckles are white, gripping onto the edge of the sink, the only thing keeping you grounded. You unclench them and splash handfuls of the water on your face, feeling sheets of cold liquid run down your skin and onto your shirt. It pools in the collar, and you only make a half assed attempt at wiping it away.

( _Pitiful._ )

Suddenly you look up, look at your face up close. You’re a mess. Still. Not only is there gross wet spots of water on your puffy face that you’ve neglected to even wipe, but tears are making their way down your cheeks too, creating a swirling mess of liquids. There’s this look in your eyes, and you can’t quite--

A sudden feeling erupts in your chest, and you would have thought it was some sort of freak internal hemorrhage, but you’ve felt this before; and before, and before. It’s pure fucking guilt, and it makes your knees buckle and suddenly the floor is against your face. You don’t remember the fall from the sink to the floor. Your breathing is becoming labored, and you can feel a strangled sounding choke come from your throat. You shake, tears and sobs filling the empty bathroom.  
You need to leave, before they find you like this. You try to get your arms to push you off the cold floor, but your muscles won’t work. You get as far as sitting up against the nearest wall, your head falling to your shoulders. You’re still heaving out pathetic sounding noises, your nose running. You reach down and feel at your jean pockets, fumbling to pull out the sad excuse of a phone you have. Just looking at it makes you want to throw up. You try to send a text to Mikey, but your fingers won’t work and you’re pretty sure all the letters you’re throwing out make no sense.

( _You’re worthless. You can’t even send a simple text. You should be ashamed for even trying to._ )

You’re fumbling, trying to close out of the text box window and just call the fucking man when it’s suddenly dialing in your ear. You take a deep breath, but all that comes out is wheezing and some crying that you’ve managed to tone down a bit.

( **Pathetic.** )

You hear the ringing fade out, and voices on the other line. You call out,

“Mike-y. Mike….y.”

Your voice is slurred, and you don’t sound like yourself. You’re nasally, and closely resemble someone who sticks cacti down their throat for fun.

“Please. Please. I’m.. I need.. In-the bathro...om. Mikey.”  
You start sobbing towards the end of your sentence, basically howling into the phone, your voice cutting in and out with your shaking. You can’t speak like this.

( _He probably wont care. They all know what you did._ )

“Dude. Shit, Mikey’s around here somewhere. Just hold on Gerard,” 

The voice that comes out is higher than your brothers, and you realize it’s Ray. Shit, you must have accidentally hit the call on his number. You shakily shut the phone, throwing it as far as you can across the room, and slowly slide down the wall, feeling every tile dig into your hips and back. 

You’re laying in fetal position when you hear the groaning of the bathroom door open, and you know it’s Mikey by the way he takes a surprised breath in, and kneels down to pet your hair and lift your head into his lap. 

Mikey looks at you, face expressionless. You know that tactic however, you fucking taught it to him. It’s pure emotion, the kind that can't and shouldn’t come out through basic human functions. The kind that only go away with long nights watching pointless movies and hours staring at the sky with nothing on your mind. He’s blank, but you knows that it’s not real. He’s just better at hiding it.

( _He was always better at everything._ )

“He would have wanted this Gee. You know how he was always talking about going out with a bang. Parties were his scene. You drank, didn’t you?” You hear his voice, calm, but unsteady. It’s more of a statement than a question, but you nod your head slowly anyways.

You cry into his lap, the soothing circles he’s rubbing on your back helping. Almost.  
“It’s all my fault, Mikey.” You sob, clenching onto his jeans, rubbing your face in his skinny thighs. You don’t look up, but you know his face is sad, maybe even as much as yours.  
“Gerard, you need to stop blaming yourself. It’s not your fault that it was dark out, and it’s not your fault that Frank just happened to be in a freak car accident. The guy was probably on a lot of drugs, you know it was a crash and run.”

Frank.

The name hurts almost as much as the body in the coffin, not thirty feet outside the bathroom. The body that had all the tattoo’s you had drawn over and over, in pencil and paint and mostly in your hands.  
You feel another flow of tears come on, and Mikey’s basically cradling you as you shake more.

“It.. It either way Mikey, I texted him while he was driving back from the st-st-stor...” You stop to suck in a few breathes. “M-Mikey, I can still feel his hands on mine, I c-can still..” you let out a choked sound. 

“Our bedroom still smells like his d-dumb fucking candles w-we bought during our trip to the d-d-...”  
You let out something like a scream and Mikey is holding your head to his chest, stroking the hair out of your face, holding you close.  
“ I know..” he whispers, and you shut your eyes. Everything is better dark, and not spinning.  
“I know.”

“The dogs, Mikey. T-They still bark when he doesn’t come home. They sniff around and w-whine, a-and.. I don’t know how to tell them he’s not ever g-” You take a deep breath, trying to form a proper sentence. 

“I don’t know how to t-tell them none of us are going to see him again, just because I had to fucking text him on the way home, I never text him while he's driving and he’s… he’s gonna be buried ten feet down in the e-earth because of it. ”

Mikey is silent, the voices of the people starting to tone down through the walls, and you wish for nothing more than to be side by side in the coffin outside with Frank, at peace.


End file.
